The Modern Tragedy: Full Price Pizza

Today I got raped by Papa John.

That's right, the good papa, Papa John Pizza (not actual last name, I bet), pulled down my pants, and stuck his dick in my butt hole. Lubed up with Pizza Sauce, he entered and exited, entered and exited, ENTERED AND EXITED!!! Faster and faster! In out, out in! HE RAPED ME!

Oh... God... I'm sorry... I've just never been raped by a Pizza mascot before... I'm distraught...

If you can't trust the Pizza Mascots, who can you trust?

I know they said "Avoid the Noid," but he had a heart of Gold.

Literally. His anatomy was different than ours because he wasn't people.

Too bad for him hearts of gold don't pump blood that well (or at all, for that matter). RIP Noid. You are missed (until Domino's reboots you).

Anyway, all this making light of rape has gotten me off topic. No, I wasn't literally raped by Papa John Pizza. I've never been raped... by a Pizza Mascot... Not yet, anyway (Seriously, fucking Avoid the Noid! One of my Uncles was raped by the Noid!)...

Let me explain...

I order my Pizza from Papa John's. Ever since I moved (wow, I always try to spell move, "movie" because I type the word "movie" far more than "move," but I've never tried to spell moved, "movied"... until now!) to my LA apartment, for 2 reasons. First, it is close. It is half a mile away, so a walk there and back is only one mile. Easy. Breezy. Beautiful. Cover Girl.

 

Because you're worth it!

Plus, I have this coupon.

Well, I HAD this coupon. Once. For a carryout special. $8.99 for a large, one topping pizza, as long as I pick it up.

I had this coupon once. But, whenever I order pizza (which is about 3 times a month for the past half a year), I always tell them I HAVE this coupon. And they know what coupon I am talking about. So, they give me the discount. I've never had to produce the coupon. Not once!

I think you see where this modern tragedy is going.

I know it's horrible. Like watching a box full of kittens slowly approach a whirring blade. Or, more realistically, watching a box of puppies approach a Puppy Heart Extracting Machine, or PHEMbot, at a Puppy Heard Plant, or PHP for you scientists out there.

 

I called Papa John's and ordered the usual. This guy was either new or retarded. He didn't ask me for my phone number first (non-mentally challenged Pizza phone operators always start with this industry trademark) and when I did give it to him, he repeated every fucking number I gave, as a question. It was like this (in semi-screenplay format)...

Nick

3-

Retard Pizza Man

3?

Nick 

Yes. 0-

Retard Pizza Man

0?

Nick

Yes! 3-

Retard Pizza Man

3? Again?

Nick

YES! Phone numbers sometimes repeat numbers! 8-

Anyway, you get the idea. He was retarded. So, I knew I had to be careful of that retard strength when picking up my pizza.

I gave him my phone number, which took 10 minutes, then I ordered. A large, one topping pizza (as the coupon once stated)...

Nick

...With Jalapenos.

Retard Pizza Man

Jalapeno peppers?

Nick

...? Am I being Punk'd? Won't

Ashton Kutcher just die already?

So, I ordered the pizza. And I told him about the coupon I "have." Usually, this is when they apply the coupon and tell me the new price. The $8.99 price.

The squeamish can stop reading now. I won't blame you. Just be glad this didn't happen to you!

He didn't apply the price. Because he was a new employee (or a retard), he didn't know what coupon I was talking about, or that he was SUPPOSED to take my word for it and apply the discount. Instead, he said I should just "bring the coupon in... or something."

Fuuuuuuuck. I looked for the coupon. In my apartment I looked. Online I looked. Nuthin'. I obviously haven't seen it in six months...

So, I went in. And tried to convince the woman to give me the coupon price without the coupon. But she didn't! She said I need to present the coupon to use it! Which is bullshit, because I always pick up the pizza from her, and she has NEVER, not once, asked to see the coupon!

This is BULLSHIT! Pay full price for pizza? Me?! I've never done that before! And it was far worse than I expected it would be! And far worse than I make it out to be here! I am lucky to be alive.

I hope she falls in the oven and dies (only not really... because that would ruin someone's pizza... and I would not wish that on ANYBODY!).

Anyway, sorry for internet yelling at you, but I am still so upset, hours later. I may never go back. It's nothing personal, but the risk of having to pay for full price pizza is far too great. The reason we learn history is to learn from our mistakes...

NEVER FORGET! I will never again pay for full price pizza.

P.S. there was a great picture of an eagle with a tear running down it's face... but it had the date 9/11/01, so I didn't want to post it... because today's date was 1/22/10.

Aw, what the hell. The Eagle Crying is too hilarious  an op to pass up.

Proving I'm not Racist.

So I had an unfortunate... incident... last week.

Involving racism.

My own racism.

It was, you know, one of them unfortunate incidents that makes you reexamine everything about yourself, causing you to doubt who you are, put a Colt Detective Special in your mouth, and pussy out before you can pull the mutha' fuckin' trigger (like Riggs. It's ironic really, the whole gun in the mouth incident was what convinced me I had something left to live for because I realized I was like Mel Gibson and I thought that was really swell. Then I realized being like Mel meant that I was racist again, causing me to doubt who I was and reinsert the gun which made me happy because I again was able to compare myself to Mel Gibson by way of Martin Riggs. It was a confusing and unending cycle that lasted for hours and eventually prevented me from killing myself because I eventually fell asleep). We've all had moments like that.

But I digress. Here's the incident...

I was in my Seminar in TV Writing class, where we write spec scripts and what not, just kidding ourselves, pretending to be filmmakers before we hit the cruel, real world where an ordinary business man won't give a second thought to raping you in the ass (it's hard being a man with the threat of anal rape in Obama's America).

Anyway, I was in this class where someone was pitching a SOUTH PARK script. Her script was a little flat with no real point, and I was explaining that even when South Park appears to be about something of little insignificant it's usually actually about some bigger important event or message. Whatever the boys are involved in is usually a metaphor for something bigger and more important. And then came my fucking stupid, accidentally racist comment...

"You know, like maybe you think an episode is just about poop, and in the end it's really about... about...I don't know... a black president."

Jesus-titty-fucking-Christ. I had just accidentally compared a piece of poop to President Barack Obama. On the surface, that's pretty bad, but when you begin to analyze that comparison it is much worse. My accidentally racist comment was clever enough that I equated the color of skin to the color of poop. I had effectively called black people poop.

I was going to put a picture of poop here, but the images that come up when you do a google image search of poop are just too disgusting. So, instead, I included a picture of someone who is about as a talented as a pice of poop.

Aye caramba.

There is a black guy in the class (African American? Does saying Black make me more racist? Does worrying about the terminology make me even more racist? Yes, until I explain my way out of it all at the end). He had been the one to react first with a nervous laugh (the rest the class followed). The teacher, my favorite teacher, who knows me pretty well, kinda covered for me, saying that that one "got away from me. "

I began to worry, do I apologize to the black (African American?) student? I'd be singling him out as the only black student... Is that even worse? Is the fact I even notice he's black make me even more racist (I hadn't noticed he was black till after he was the first to nervously laugh, to be fair. I swear!). I decided the best plan of action was to ignore the whole thing happened, as did the rest of the class (I was a little more friendly to the black student, laughing at more of his jokes and what-not. God Damn, I'm racist). But you know they were all thinking, my teacher included, "Holy Shit, Nick is a mutha' fuckin' racist piece of shit! That explains that unexplainable feeling of disgust I had toward him ever since I first met him."

I didn't think a whole lot about it that class period, comfortable that I was not racist because I had never intentionally said anything racist. For fuck's sake I voted for Obama! The man is half-black!

Barack Obama: Every White Person's Proof that they are not Racist since 2006

That night though, the seriousness of the situation really set in. The fact that it was an accident makes me MORE racist. That means I'm thinking racist, subconsciously. I mean, some Southern blowhard just says racist things cause it's "cool" as he sucks down his Virginia Slims (also "cool") before he sucks his buddies dick/penis/cock (super "cool" down South, or so Billy Bob's best buddy Billy Joe claimed that one faithful night that changed their friendship forever). To be intentionally racist doesn't mean you are racist, it just means you're trying to keep up an image. To act all cool, "I love black people. I voted for mutha' fuckin' Barack Obama, bitch!" and then think racist thoughts deep down in the very soul of you makes you very, very racist.

Virginia Slims will make you "8O's cool."

So I came to conclusion that I was very, very racist, which lead me to the Martin Rigg's Colt Detective Special moment already touched on.

And then a few days later... came salvation!

I was in the grocery parking lot, just having narrowly avoided a car accident when I realized I also hate Asian people.

You may be saying, "Nick, how does hating Asian people make you NOT Racist? If anything, that makes you MORE Racist."

"Aha!" I say, let me explain further.

"Alright," you say, "But I'm still not convinced. This better not be a fucking waste of my time."

Anyway, before you so rudely interrupted...

I realized I hate Asians. Then I began to really think about all the different races and ethnicitys and nationalities...

I realized I also hate Mexicans. And Jews. And Arabs. And Indians (which are technically Asian when you think about it). And Native Americans (which are sometimes called Indians, which I guess would make them technically Asian as well). And every other race you can think of.

I even hate Whites. I hate them soooo much!

Ta Da! Salvation!

I realized in that moment that redefined who I was, that I don't hate Black People! I HATE PEOPLE (which I guess actually DOES include hating Black People, but I'm not singling anyone out is the point). I hate all people of all shapes, religions, colors, and intelligence levels. Hating everyone EQUALLY keeps me from being a racist.

This is what America is all about. Equality. And by hating everyone, I am not only not racist, but I am also more American.

So, sure I compare a black person to poop. I would compare a white person to bird shit mixed with ejaculate.

So by hating everyone, I keep myself in the clear. Postponing thoughts of suicide for a few more days...

Huzah!

I still wounld't date a black chick though cause they're just not attractive.